Michael Cooper

[The Black Ice Weaves Itself Like Leaves]

Michael Cooper

                                                            the black ice weaves itself like leaves
undispersing the light each hydrostat a precoded strategy of capture    each a blade    the stop light cameras runs out of film long    before
                                                                                                   money loses
   its value    a mailroom breach    it’s sort left to the lichen    among
                      the slots    in and out boxes    the people clumped fungi pieces of them are hacked off
smaller stalks rise among the waist
     high grasses    that engulf our sidewalks their letters lost    his text

   left unanswered I didn’t
know
   Kyle slowly loads the revolver of late night
at my terminal Ascii opens and closes its sideways mouth the way
   each crowd has its yeses and its no’s the umbrellas
bloom in unison to catch water in their beaks


MICHAEL COOPER is an inland empire poet, PoetrIE member, MFA student, Veteran, and father of two great sons: Markus & Jonathan. You can find his work in Tin Cannon, The Pacific Review, The Chaffey Review, The Camel Saloon, Creepy Gnome, Milspeaks: Memo, Split Lip, and other fine (but wild) publications. Michael would like to make you aware that the splash zone includes the first 11 rows.

 

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